


Cold December Night

by Val_Creative



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adults, Affection, Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Christmas Eve, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Humor, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Romance, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Stress Baking, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Eddie has his first Christmas Eve with Richie post-divorce.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 17
Kudos: 222
Collections: IT Fandom Secret Santa 2019





	Cold December Night

**Author's Note:**

> POSTING TIME. I LUCKED OUT AND GOT REDDIE. WOOOOO. I was assigned to **heknewwellenough** for the **IT Fandom Prompts Secret Santa 2019** and I hope they like this. I hope you guys like it. ❤️🎄❄️

*

December used to be gloomy, shadowy overcast in Eddie's life. White powdery snowflakes hovered and clung to the tips of his lashes, and Eddie would wish he could separate his atoms. Vanish into the aether of night with its faint, lonely moonglow.

Myra dragged him out on Christmas Eve, right before the last mass started. Every time. She did this every time. Myra would be near tears, wailing Eddie's name, begging him to go inside, and Eddie knew why. He knew why but didn't speak it into existence due to fear and guilt and hatred. Eddie waited outside in the darkness instead, shivering and pocketing his hands into his coat.

Pine trees would be draped and snug with bright white stringlights. Heavy with snow. The parking lots blackened with ice. And, Eddie stared up at the old, rotting cathedral with disdain, the vapor of his breathing puffing out of his lips like cigarette smoke.

Richie never tries to emotionally manipulate him. He doesn't insist Eddie needs to be kept from others or is always, always sick.

(Eddie doesn't feel wrong with him.)

*

New York City feels like a distant memory. Painless, blurred out and roaring from existence.

*

It's the first Christmas Eve of Eddie's divorce, and he's never been so overwhelmed and busy.

Never been in high spirits.

He and Richie decide to vacation out of LA, picking upstate during a snowstorm, renting a cabin with friendly locals in the area.

Eddie mentally takes note of how the oven's clock flickers. For now, he's not worried. Most of the baking has been done and they decided to eat out at the Burger Lounge near the highway. Garland and velvety red bows hang over the cabinets. Silver tinsel entwining the front hall's staircase leading up to the cabin's wood plank loft-bedroom. There's two twin-sized beds.

Richie's already nudged them together and offered to ' _christen_ ' the upstairs, aiming a wide and shit-eating grin at Eddie. He narrowly dodged one of Eddie's suitcases flying onto the beds, bouncing onto his feet and chuckling and hugging Eddie's waist.

He's not embarrassed about the sex. Of course not.

Richie has been using every opportunity in their budding relationship to kiss Eddie breathless, whispering Eddie's name like it's a reverie, and mouthing over his body like he's starving for touch. Maybe he is. Eddie has no idea what Richie's personal life had been like as an adult. He was a closeted homosexual man pretending to be straight. And, well, Eddie was just figuring himself out without Mommy—erm, Myra— _her_ there to tell him how.

(Homosexual? Yeah, Eddie kinda figured he was. Kinda the reason why he wanted to feel clean for years and years. And now Eddie has to reverse those years and _years_ of brainwashing and internalized guilt and homophobia. It's working so far.)

Eddie still remembers after the final battle with Pennywise, barely getting out of his life. He forgot to wash the rancid sewage and blood off him before Richie pulled him in, their noses colliding, breathing hotly against Eddie's mouth. They were in broad daylight, standing up on the quarry's cliff with Bill and Beverly turning, shaking their heads good-naturedly and exasperated.

He remembers the hum of the AC in the motel room, and Richie's fingers peeling off Eddie's mud-encrusted jeans. He remembers how fiercely and suddenly the arousal took him. Eddie tuned out Richie joking about dick sizes, grabbing onto his face, pressing their lips together and moaning loudly, blissfully when Richie's tongue slides wetly against his. He had been thinking about Richie like this since they were thirteen. Rough, hairy knuckles and creamy skin and the vibrations of Richie's deep, hoarse laughter. He didn't make fun of Eddie's lack of experience. Richie only backed him onto the mattress, whispering encouragingly, watching in smiling awe as a flustered, flushing Eddie jerked himself off, his cock twitching against his palm.

But, especially, he remembers feeling Richie's lips on him, moist and giving and opening. The heat surrounding and sucking over Eddie's dick as the other man pleasantly groans, clasping firmly onto Eddie's hips for leverage, thrusting his head.

Richie called it "a good first step" to letting go of the past. The _sex_. Maybe it helped convince Eddie to divorce a woman he never loved or was attracted to, and to stay with Richie. Maybe they were just fucking around, or maybe Eddie is just seriously in love with his best friend and his life is a shitshow. But at least it's a shitshow with _Richie_ there.

He can handle it then.

*

"I got the driveway shoveled! Eds, hey! Eds!" Richie yells at the top of his lungs from the hallway, banging open the cabin's front door. Eddie can hear his boots stomping off iced snow on the rug. "You're welcome! It's the middle of the fucking _night_!"

"Rich!" Eddie yells back. He glances over the kitchen island stacked with mountains of gingerbread men and tiny butter cookies of stars and hearts. Richie appears, stomping some more and quivering from the cold. Snowmelt drips off his parka's hood and his dark, thinning bangs. Eddie can already see he's gonna be mopping. "I need you to taste these," he tells Richie flatly.

Eddie gestures to the nearest cookie-rack full of gingerbread, toweling off his hands. Bits of flour on his reindeer-print, red Christmas sweater. Underneath Richie's parka, he's got his own green Christmas sweater sewn with woolen, cartoony snowmen.

"… Did you put my sneezing powder in it?" Richie asks, his lips tilting up in semi-suspicion.

"I'm not you, asshole."

At Eddie's affectionate but irritated tone, the other man pops a tiny sugary heart past his lips and chews. Smearing pastel, fluffy blue and iridescent sprinkles. "Mm," Richie hums, baffled. His eyeglasses fogging up. "Mhmm, fuck. It's good."

"What about the vanilla on the frosting?"

"It's fucking _good_ , man. Don't sweat it." Richie offers a bigger, sincere grin, leaning over in a one-armed embrace and kissing him. Eddie tastes sweet, light sugar. A hint of Richie's lip balm. He lowers one of his hands to Richie's back, massaging through his parka. Richie has been complaining about aches, but Eddie thinks it might be because Richie let Eddie try to aggressively fuck him in the cramped backseat of Eddie's car. Not too successfully. "Mh—when the hell did you become America's Next Top Chef?"

Eddie presents the cookbook, waving it slightly and grinning back. "Just follow the instructions," he announces.

"Martha Stewart, eat your heart out."

“ _Christ_ —”

*

The hours wind down.

Eddie mentally sends his thanks to whatever force of nature kept the power from going out.

He nibbles on the slab of dried, burnt toast Richie made earlier. Something about keeping his energy up for shoveling. Eddie crinkles his nose, spitting out the old, stale crumbs. He then tosses out cartons of eggs and what remains of the mixing ingredients they're not going to use.

Richie has already vanished into the downstairs bathroom, complaining about his underwear getting soaked from falling outside. Good. Maybe he can bathe. Eddie got a whiff of all of the hot sweat accumulating underneath Richie's fleecy, plaid-red parka.

 _Disgusting_.

He snatches onto a gingerbread man on his way out of the kitchen, chewing into a leg. A little too much ginger. But not horrible.

Eddie listens to the pipes shuddering within the cabin, as the shower jets on. He heads down the narrow, wood-log corridor, knocking on the bathroom door. It's their only bathroom. "You got your shower bag, Richie?" Eddie yells through the door.

"Yeah! No shit!"

"Okay!" Eddie yells back, rolling his eyes. " _Gee, Eds… thanks for being such a considerate boyfriend…_ " he mutters to himself.

"You're more than welcome to join me!"

Richie's voice drifts mischievously into his eardrums. Heat grips into Eddie's chest and his groin, stiffening his cock, at the thought of Richie's fingers gripping onto water-slippery, naked hips, pushing himself against Eddie until they're flattened up to a shower wall, one of Richie's hands flexing hard on Eddie's ass. Tight, tight, in rhythm to Eddie's cock working between his legs.

"You promised you were gonna fuck my brains out," Richie calls out again, drawling out one of the sexier Voices in his arsenal. Eddie flushes deeper. The other man feigns disappointment, sighing, adding on, "and yet, Eds… here I am…"

"Still brainless anyway," Eddie finishes, loud enough for Richie to hear.

The corner of Eddie's mouth tilts up as Richie breaks character for a moment, ugly-snorting through his laughter.

*

Space heaters aren't permitted. Most of the place they're staying in is constructed of very flammable wood. Richie dragged in one of his space heaters from their apartment, and set it up, adjusting it to a temperature reader/time to automatically shut off.

He walks into the loft-bedroom, feeling overheated quickly. Eddie unplugs the device, pulling off his thick, woolen sweater.

"Now that's a sight I like to see," Richie announces, smiling and pushing up his glasses.

"Skin and bones?"

"You're a fine piece of ass, Kaspbrak—and it's a _crime_ that you refuse to see it."

Eddie glances over with mild, amused disbelief, lifting an eyebrow. He halts. The other man walks around him, only wearing a towel. Eddie has seen more of Richie than he ever thought possible in his life, but somehow, it always gets him. He's not muscular, but Richie seems broad in the shoulders compared to Eddie's lean stature and tall and firm. So, so _firm_.

Richie's fingers scratch through a dark thatch of curls on his sternum. Eddie finds himself peering down to Richie's bellybutton and all of those sporadic and fine hairs blackening and thickening as it vanishes under the edge of Richie's fluffy towel.

"I love hot water," Richie groans, looking up at the ceiling. He drags a hand through his sopping-wet bangs. "Hey, you got a change of clothes over there, Eds? My shit reeks." When his boyfriend doesn't answer, Richie notices him staring. Instead of bringing it up, he decides to raise an arm, striking a ridiculous 'model' pose. "Which do you think is my better side, Eds?"

He makes another dumb, exaggerated gesture, batting his eyelashes, pouting his lips at Eddie turning a mortifying red.

"You facing the wall—" Eddie blurts out.

Richie drops his arms. "Oucharoni and cheese," he says, grinning toothily. "See if I ever do this for you naked again—"

" _Rich_ —"

Eddie gives him a long-suffering sigh, chucking a pair of jeans at him. He's past any form of aggravation with Richie. Fighting and bickering for all hours of the night until one of them storms out. Keeping secrets. Irritation—okay, yeah, there's still irritation. And he's sure Richie gets irritated with him too. But all there's left out of Eddie for him is love—a sprawling, warm _love_ flooding inside.

That feels right.

*


End file.
